


monsters are always hungry, darling

by makescalamity



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Biting, Body Worship, M/M, Overstimulation, Rimming
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-16
Updated: 2015-08-16
Packaged: 2018-04-14 23:56:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4585065
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/makescalamity/pseuds/makescalamity
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>In Freudian terms, Harry has an oral fixation.</em>
  <br/>
  <em>Louis is more than ok with it.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	monsters are always hungry, darling

**Author's Note:**

> For anyone who needs Louis in Harry's lilac sweater.  
> Title from Richard Siken's _Snow and Dirty Rain_.

In Freudian terms, Harry has an oral fixation.

Louis is more than ok with it.

He nibbles on Louis' ears between takes in the studio, pretends to gnaw down the length of his arm, pressing a smile into the inky black of his tattoos. Wrapped up in each other, sleepless nights measured in potholes and mile markers, Harry kisses each of Louis’ fingers before slipping the thumb into his mouth. He makes sure to drag his teeth on the way out so that Louis is squirming as much as he is before he spreads his own legs and puts it to good use.

It's been four days.

Four days since Harry's gotten his fix, since he bit into the curve of Louis' shoulder in the doorway of their sleepy kitchen. Since he bruised his love in teeth marks and left without looking back because it never gets any easier.

His flight had landed late, and he's just on the edge of cranky. The States are hard. For them, really, everywhere is hard. But too many days of separation and tabloids and leggy blondes and he's craving bigger beds, the softest skin behind Louis' ear and the promise of their tall iron gates.

He thanks the driver and stumbles out of the car. When it's dark like this, their house seems enormous, foreboding in its size, looming over him. If he lived here alone, Harry would probably go mad. But he's got Louis to come home to every trip, every day it's hard like this, who will hold him in the dark and fill his home with sunlight. Louis, who is waiting only for Harry somewhere inside.

He takes the creaking stairs three at a time and follows the watery sliver of light peeking out from under their bedroom door. He's about to tell Louis off for waiting up when he could be sleeping, should be sleeping because they can never get enough when they're apart like this, but when he nudges the door open, his breath is pushed out of him at the sight of him, soft and gorgeous, gold washed in silver, asleep in the middle of their bed.

He tried, bless him; Louis' got Zayn's worn copy of _A Clockwork Orange_ flared out on his slowly rising chest and his phone curled loose in his fingers. He's still wearing the lilac sweater Harry'd slipped over his head four days ago which, well, breaks Harry's first rule of fashion. But he breaks all the rules for Louis anyway so he shrugs out of his plane clothes, flicks off the lamp, and curls up around him.

/

Louis' poked into wakefulness by a needy boyfriend and his ridiculous long fingers.

"Your hair's all fluffy, " Harry says, his dimple peeking out when he pats at Louis' fringe.

"Mmm, slept on it wet. You look awful," Louis answers, prodding at the bags under Harry's eyes. Harry's smile turns sad at that because they both know why. Harry captures Louis' fingers and brings them to his lips.

On mornings like these, in the home they share together, rain beating at the windows from the patchwork of a London sky, Harry won’t bite. At least not yet. If he can really work up to it, and they have the rare luxury of time today, Harry can make Louis cry before he even pushes into him.

He slides his hands under the jumper. Louis winces. "Cold hands, babe."

Harry laughs and kisses behind Louis’ ear. "Well what do you think I'm trying to do?"

He rolls Louis onto his back and gathers the sweater up to Louis' collarbones, ducking down to kiss each letter on the ink between them. His lips follow the pads of his fingers pressed feather-soft down his sternum, through the chest hair that is entirely Louis, and up his throat.

Harry presses a smile into the golden curve of Louis' neck. He smells like he always does, one part fabric softener, one part sweat, one part tea that's steeped for just too long. It takes all of two seconds for Harry to decide that while Louis looks splendid, all snug in his borrowed jumper, eyes cool like the air curling through their open window, he'd look much better completely ruined.

After all, it has been four days, and Harry reckons they've both waited long enough.

Without warning, he places his mouth, fever-hot and open over one of Louis nipples. He laves over the whole of it once, pauses, and sucks a breath between his lips. The air is cool around the edges of Harry's mouth where Louis' skin is just slick, and warmer by the tongue still tracing circles. His nipple puckers, giving Harry something to really bite into, which he does. Happily.

Louis is caught somewhere dangerous between a gasp and a keen, back arching and pushing up into Harry. Louis' nipple still trapped between his teeth, Harry pulls back slightly. Louis jolts when it slips out of his mouth.  

“Warming up?” Harry asks, fingers digging in and stroking up when they wander over Louis' back. Louis snorts and smushes a hand to his face. The flush in his cheeks and goose flesh on his arm answer for him.

Harry kisses his way to Louis' other nipple, barely even mouthing at it, wanting Louis to ask for more. He does, with a hand in the back of Harry's curls, pulling him closer and arching into it. Harry sucks the nipple between his lips, swirling his tongue and then tapping the peak of it to make Louis shudder. Louis huffs a breathy laugh, and mutters a tiny "Hot." The skin around his knuckles blanch white where they’re gripping the sheets. Louis loves Harry's mouth almost as much as Harry loves using it.

Harry moves down to skim his lips over the ticklish spaces between his ribs and leave a trail of sharp little nips to the curve of Louis' belly. Louis sucks in a ragged breath and tangles his fingers in his boyfriend's curls, trying to pull him away and tug the jumper down. Harry looks up at him, crimson lips tugged into a frown. "Heeeeeey," he draws out, disgruntled, "I hadn't finished yet."

Louis sighs and tilts his head back again. He's never much liked the extra weight he has around his middle, but inexplicably Harry loves it. He'll let him have it this morning.

"I'm glad I started training again," he says to the ceiling, his sleep-rough voice going breathy at the end when Harry sucks a kiss beneath his navel.

Harry's reply comes petulant and muffled into the skin beneath his lips. He spiders his fingers over the round of Louis' tummy, possessive.

"I'm not," he says sadly, before ducking down to kiss at his teeth marks. His other hand slips to the small of Louis' back, relentlessly pulling him up against his mouth. "You always look fit," and he noses over the soft skin meeting the band of his briefs. Louis can feel his lips draw into a pout before he mumbles, "Less to bite now."

"Yeah, you have to say that, freak," Louis tells him laughing, stroking through the long curls along Harry's neck. "You love me."

Harry runs his hands over the jut of Louis' hips and his brow furrows in mock consideration, a smile tucked up in the curve of his mouth. "Nah, if I saw you in a club, I reckon I'd still take you home." He moves to lean down again, mouth swollen, peeking up at Louis through a cascade of hair. Louis relents, closing his eyes against the soft press of lips over the ticklish skin of his tummy, going fuzzy under the attention.

Then Harry blows the most ridiculous, spluttering raspberry into his stomach and Louis curls up like a pill bug.

"Fucker!" he yells between giggles. He hooks his hand around Harry's neck to urge him up for a proper kiss. It's mostly smiles and the way their teeth clack together in the mid-morning warmth of their bed is decidedly not sexy. But it's sweet and slow and after a brief tease of tongue, Harry chases the flush down Louis body.

They both laugh after Harry snuffles into his side and the ticklish outline of his ribs like a baby bear. Harry's still laughing as he nudges Louis' legs apart and settles between them. Louis traces a few fingers through the curls on Harry's forehead, tucking them behind his ear, smile soft. "Good morning, love."

From this angle, Louis looks proper sinful - legs spread, skin flushed, eyelashes fluttering against the pink of his cheeks. His cock is tantalizingly hard beneath the fabric of his pants. Harry presses an open mouthed kiss and a "Good for your dick," to the slightly damp cotton before sliding them down past Louis' feet. He snickers against the soft flesh just on the inside of his knee, like he does when he thinks he's being clever. He bares his teeth, sing-songs, "Munch munch, Louis for lunch!" and sinks them into his thigh.

The laugh Louis had started, because Harry is always the most ridiculous thing, cuts off short and spins into a moan that has him spreading his legs even wider. He lifts one to press his foot flat on Harry's sloping back, urging him upward.

Harry grins at him and moves back down, alternating little sucking kisses with stinging nips and the full spread of his teeth clamped hard. In no time, he has Louis writhing beneath him, pressing up into his mouth and pulling away when it’s all too much. He can't decide which one he likes better.

Louis' panting is interspersed with Harry's own name and he smiles because this is just where Louis needs to be. His breath catches every time Harry's tongue soothes over the jagged crescents of red sunk into his thighs. Louis will ache tomorrow but that, he knows, will be the best part.

Harry pauses to survey his work before switching legs and starting back from the knee. He would bite his name if he could, tattoo it, even for only a little while.

He's taking his time, breaking Louis apart piece by piece. (But in Louis' foggy brain, he's not worried; why would he be when Harry leaves him better than he found him?) Harry reaches the velvety skin in the crease of his hip again and he noses at it with teeny fluttering kisses, petting at Louis sweat-slick belly.

"You good, Lou?" he asks, cheek fit into the curve of his side.

"No," Louis answers, and it’s nearly a whimper, tossing his head further into the pillows. "More,” he says quietly, like he’s half-hoping Harry won’t hear him. “Please." He hikes his right knee up closer to his chest.

Harry presses a sneaky grin into the jut of Louis' hip because as much as he loves it, this is as close as Louis will ever get to asking to be eaten out.

He kisses his way back to Louis' cock, still hard, still slick against his belly. He laves a kiss to the base and down over his balls. Harry wraps his hands around Louis' thighs, digging his fingers into the purpling skin to make Louis gasp, pushing them upwards and outwards.

Harry gazes down at the ring of muscle for a moment before he leans in to draw over it with just the flat of his tongue. Louis whines high in his throat because this is one of his favorite things, Harry nuzzling between his thighs to take such good care of him. He's teasing with his tongue, speeding up to trace the outside of his rim and then slowing down to push it deep into Louis, doing his best to open him up.

When Harry looks up again, still sneaking kisses to the already damp skin, Louis' tossed an arm over his face like simply having eyes is too much for him to handle.

Harry slips one of his fingers in beside his tongue, pushing in to the first knuckle, trying to let him get used to the stretch and the drag before drawing it out. Louis' thighs clench where they're draped across his shoulders, and Harry peeks up again. This time there are tears sliding down toward his ears and he's silent save for the breath whooshing out of him. He slips his tongue out now, replaces it with another finger when Louis whines at the emptiness. He crooks his fingers to keep them inside before he leans up to kiss at the tear tracks on Louis’ flushed cheeks.

“You alright, sweetheart?” Harry asks, nosing softly at Louis’ ear, fingers moving gently inside him.

Louis nods shakily, breath hitching when Harry nudges his prostate. “Yeah, just – I need you, not… fingers.”

Harry squeezes his eyes shut and presses his face into the tendons in Louis’ neck. “Okay. Yeah, I can do that.”

Harry moves to grab the lube sitting four days untouched on the bedside table. And he must hit Louis' prostate hard with the fingers still tucked inside because he goes feral, hissing at their ceiling, and all but grinding his ass down.

"Easy," Harry says barely hiding a smile as he thumbs the tube open. He loves when they get to drag it out like this because Louis is so finely tuned to Harry, everything overstimulates him. He sucks a bruise deep purple on the underside of Louis' thigh when he draws his fingers out again to make the whine that follows less of a complaint. Once his fingers are slick enough, he slips them back in and he can hear Louis almost sigh in relief.

He's nearly gaping when Harry's done with him, properly stretched around the full spread of his three longest fingers. Soon Louis' just mumbling a string of _HarryHarryHarry_ under his breath, a plea more than anything else. Harry wonders briefly if he even knows he's doing it while he slicks himself up.

"M'good, now," Louis breaths, trying to sound like he's shaking less than he is. "C'mon, let's have you."

Harry nods into the purpling skin of Louis' thighs. "Wan'it Lou. Waited forever." He reaches down to spread more lube onto his cock before he lines up and presses in. Not even halfway, he has to stop, has to think of something's else besides Louis all over him or he'll finish before he can even start and have an extraordinarily dissatisfied boyfriend on his slippery hands. He nips at Louis ear to distract the both of them, before winding his arms around his waist. Harry sits back and tugs, hoisting Louis up until he's settled in his lap. It's a good angle for them, a great angle, because Louis can sink even further onto his cock.

Louis gasps when he feels Harry bottom out. He'll never get used to the way Harry is just shy of too much buried in him like this. He gives Louis a minute to adjust to stretch because it feels like it's been ages since they've done this properly. And for how many teeth marks he's laid into Louis' skin today, Harry doesn't actually want to hurt him.

It's been five years and sometimes when he looks at Louis, he doesn't know how he possibly got this lucky. He's still in Harry's jumper, the golden skin of his spread thighs smudged purple, and his dick peeking out from under the soft lilac knit. Too big even on Harry, it's sliding off of Louis' shoulder, pooling by his hands until it can cover the one resting on Harry's collarbone. 

Louis' mind is a little blank. Hot cheek pressed to Harry's bare shoulder, Harry's monster hands tracing down the warm skin of his back, Harry's cock nestled fully inside him. Harry just everywhere. Louis traces the ball of his shoulder as his thoughts come back to him. He must clench down a bit because Harry whines underneath him, muscles drawn taut. Louis threads his hand into Harry's curls to keep him close.

“Too long” Louis manages, and even though he's shaking his head like a dog with water in its ears and his eyes look a little glossy, he's determined to get what he wants. "You can move now, please... please." Shifting in his lap impatient, he nips at the underside of Harry's jaw when he's still only solid and hot and huge inside him.

"Owwww," Harry says through a laughing smile. "That's _my_ trick". He tugs on the neck of the jumper so he can latch onto the inky skin over Louis' heart. Grabbing Louis by the hips, he guides him up slowly, and then lets go, having Louis ease down again at his own pace.

Harry's been around the world more than once, but he still thinks Louis rising and falling on his cock like he needs it more than air is the most beautiful thing he's ever seen. He's just the most of any person Harry has ever met; he's everywhere. He's caught in the spaces between Harry's ribs, the shape of his rumpled sheets in the morning, the light that lines the sun. Sometimes everything is so overwhelming, his love for Louis tattooed onto the muscle of his heart because it doesn't belong to anyone else. Sometimes he has to remind himself to breathe.

With one hand braced behind him, Harry uses the other to palm at the curve of Louis' bum, slowing his rhythm, grinding in deep. He knows he hits Louis prostate when his head falls forward with a defeated sort of whimper. Harry circles his hips, brings one hand around to rub over the shiny head of Louis cock.

“You’re all wet,” Harry says, and Louis whines back, canting up against the tense muscles of Harry’s stomach. He's not wrong; his cock is smearing Harry's abs, easing the slide with every thrust of Harry's hips. He pushes back to meet them, desperate to come this way after four days apart. Louis shifts a bit and the tender skin on inside of his thighs drags on the jut of Harry's waist. When Harry hears his breath catch, he only pulls him closer with a smug little smile he does nothing to hide. He speeds ups, sinks his teeth just above Louis' collarbone, and that's it.

Trapped between a mouth, a dick, and hard place, Louis has nowhere else to go. He tumbles into his orgasm, throat bared, mind blank. He's anchored to reality by the soft lips and quiet hums pressed against his neck.

Harry runs a gentle hand up Louis side, pushing the jumper up to bare his chest. He closes his lips around one of Louis' nipples, and Louis clenches down, going hazy at the stimulation after he’s already come. Still, he knows how to completely undo Harry. He swipes two fingers through the mess on Harry's chest, taps against the swell of his bottom lip and slips them in when he obligingly opens. Harry looks at him, eyes wide, cheeks pink. When he works his tongue on the underside of his fingers, Louis leans forward and breathes against the shell of his ear “C’mon, H. Love your mouth. Gonna be all sore tomorrow, gonna remember every time I sit down, every time I move. Love how it makes me yours, just yours. There we go, sweetheart,” whispering absolute filth and encouragement until Harry shivers apart beneath him.

Harry falls back against their bed, Louis splayed across his chest. With shaking arms he tugs him up and off his softening prick, moves him so he can feel the come dripping out of Louis onto his thigh. He knows his back will ache later, but Harry doesn't ever want to move again, petting at the slightly damp jumper over Louis' back.

"How are your legs?"

Louis looks up from where he's laying on Harry's chest, tracing his swallows. 

"Sore. Good. Feels a bit like a tattoo."

Harry nods. "Happy to hear it." He nudges their noses together, steals a kiss and smile. "Get your feet off the pillows, please." Louis grumbles, but obliges.

Satisfied, Harry presses a kiss to Louis' forehead, and closes his eyes. He’ll get up in a minute, clean them both off and put on the kettle. But for just a little longer, he’ll stay wrapped here in Louis, the traveling True North that always brings him home.


End file.
